Choices
by Hay Brady
Summary: This is my take on what we didn't see in the episode after Brendan outed himself, from when him and Ste were kissing up until we saw Ste walking down the stairs.


*A/N - This is based on the unexplained Friday episode, basically what they never showed us between them kissing and Ste walking down the stairs.*

One minute we were kissing, stripping eachother of our clothes and the next he was on the floor of my bedroom covered in blood, hardly moving.

For him, it's always been for him. Everything I've ever done since we got involved in this "thing" we had has always been to make sure he's okay, that his kids get to keep their father yet he never understood that and I wasn't prepared to tell him. I wasn't that person who opened up about their feelings, I didn't want him to know about the bad things I've done cause he'd leave me, I know he would. Fuck, even I'd leave me if I could.

The knock at the door caught me off guard, even though I knew who it'd be. Why did he have to come round? Ask me for things I couldn't give him, even if I wanted too? I walked over, opened it, and there he was, stood staring at me as I walked away back into the kitchen, his eyes watching every move I made. I heard the door close as he followed me in. "_Come in, then_." I'd said trying to make sure he detected the sarcasm in my voice ... he didn't. We just stood for a while, him staring at me, me staring into the bottom of my glass, at the wall, anything to avoid looking in those eyes of his. I didn't want to speak, I didn't want him to speak. Eventually however, he did; "_What are you playin' at_? _Kissing me infront of everyone_? _In front of Noah_?" he's never looked so confused, "_I had no choice_." I'd told him, and it's true. I did have no choice, Warren was threatening to get him and then to expose me. I hated the thought of people having a hold over me by hurting him so I saved him the trouble, I kissed Stephen infront of everyone in the club. I made sure everyone was watching me do it, I told Warren I was done with him, which wasn't true, far from it. I don't think I ever will be done with him, we'd come too far to walk away now. ".._And_.. _you meant what you said_? _When you said you were done with m_e?" the sadness in his voice made my chest ache "_Yeah_." I'd said almost too quickly. "_No Stephen, I'm not done with you, I'll never be done with you_" - is what I really wanted to say, but like always I ignored my feelings and went with what a smarter man would do, what a real man would do. He slowly started walking toward me, he's braver than I remember him being, he put his arms round my neck, whispered "_Are you sure_?" and then pulled me to him. I should of pushed him off me, told him to get out, thrown him out even, but I needed him with me if only for one more night.

He'd told me he loved me, again. I didn't want to hear it, I know he loves me and I hate myself for not being able to tell him that I love him back, only I don't know if I do. I feel something for him that I've never felt for anybody before but is that love? All I know is that whenever he's with me, the Brendan that I show off to the world disappears, he sees the real me and I don't think he can even tell the difference, but that isn't the point. Whatever I feel for him isn't enough is it? I can't give him what he wants or what he needs out of a real relationship, this is all it would ever be. Behind closed doors, on our own. That's the only time I feel completely at ease is when I'm with him alone, just the two of us. We enjoy being with eachother, we make the most of the little time we have and I feel genuinely happy. I've never experienced happiness much throughout my life and I feel that I now have it, I keep messing it up even though I don't intend too. But I don't deserve it, I don't deserve _him_. It's all about power in my mind, in my heart it's different. It's about making him feel happy, making him want to be with me; never want to leave me, making him feel loved. But in the end, as always, my head's battle to take over my heart wins and I lose control by hitting him, which makes me regain the control I feel I've lost along the way.

That night while he slept, I watched him as his chest rose and fell ever so slowly. I placed my hand over where his heart was and left it there feeling it beat, it was nice to be able to just watch him sleep and not hear him speak. He always slept peacefully with me next to him, smiling almost, yet I don't know why. Did he feel safe with me? Happy? Loved? Did he feel protected? Admittedly, I would do anything to protect him and when he found out about Danny I hoped he'd realised that. All my actions tried to tell him what my voice never could, every time I went to say something that represented my feelings for him, the words died away on my lips. So I showed him how I felt hoping he'd get the message that my feelings were stronger for him than I'd ever say, but I don't think he ever has. While I was laid there, I thought about the depth of what I'd done. I'd outed myself to a club full of people, they'll think I'm ga.. one of _those_. Those queers. I tried to blame him, almost forced myself to say the words "_It's your fault_.", wake him up and throw him across the room, but I couldn't. Even though I knew he wasn't to blame for any of this, I had to push him away somehow, keep him safe. I knew what I had to do, what I always did to get rid of him, I didn't want to do it this time, I just wanted him. Wanted him to be with me. But I had too, for him and for his kids. That's all I cared about. Him being safe and while I was around, it's something he was never going to be.

When he woke up the next morning, he smiled at me and I couldn't help but smile back, he looked so happy to see me laying beside him. "_Morning_" he'd said to me as he lifted up his hand to stroke my face, and I let him do it, I needed to feel his touch just one more time before I ruined it all, I leaned in and I kissed him. But it wasn't one of the usual kisses, I tried to make it mean something, I wanted to take my time and I wanted to savour it, so I could remember how it felt, how _I_ felt. And when he was in the arms of that other man, he'd still remember me.

After I got up, and got dressed. I decided I needed to be a man about this, and I made myself remember my dad, the man I hated more than myself. Remembering all the stuff he said to me about who I was, how disgusted he was in me, the pain he'd inflicted upon me physically and emotionally, it was the only thing that could make me angry enough to go through with this, and once Stephen was dressed ... I closed my eyes and I hit him. I only planned to hit him once, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. I hit him in the stomach, in the face, I grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, shoved him against the wall, shouted at him. But it wasn't Stephen I was shouting at, it wasn't Stephen I'd just beaten up so badly, it was my dad, he was all I could see. I watched him as he slumped to the floor, he looked so small, so broken. I walked into the kitchen, got him a wet cloth to clean him up a little, I knelt down beside him and tried to help him but he wouldn't let me. He asked me why. Why I did that to him, he looked up at me with tear filled eyes. It was only then that the realisation of what I'd just done hit me like a punch to the stomach, and as I felt all the air leave my lungs tears began streaming down my face. So I walked back out the room. "_Close the door on yer way out_." I'd said trying to sound as cold as possible, that's who I was right? "Brendan Brady, the heartless bastard". I sat down on the sofa, and I watched him as he limped towards the front door, grasping at his side. He turned back to look at me, straight in the eye, then he left. I let out a big, shaky breath and for the first time in my life, I knew it was okay to cry. I slid from the sofa to the floor, buried my head in my hands and lifted my legs up to meet my chest, "_I'm so sorry, Stephen_." I whispered to myself, "_I'm so sorry_."

But it has to be that way doesn't it? There was no way around it. I had to make him feel like I didn't want him. He needs to realise that on his own, he needs to realise that I'm bad news, no good, dangerous, _a monster_. Knowing he is alive is all that matters to me and will get me through this, it'll make all the pain I feel bearable. I knew it would be best to lose him through my own fault, than to lose him through somebody else's revenge.


End file.
